United States of America, 36 years ago…

Dianne Archer was an attractive 23 year old young woman, with all of her life ahead of her. She worked in the cosmetics department of a large multi-storey city department store. One day she was arranging lipsticks in a glass display tray on the bench, when she noticed a handsome young man walking through the store.
He was a little younger than her, 18 in fact, which was far more significant at that age, than it would have been if they’d both been ten or twenty years older.

Dianne had dated a few boys in high school and two men since leaving, but it had never developed into anything serious. Though there had been some initial attraction in each case, it had never amounted to what Dianne felt at this moment:

This was love at first sight.

Dianne felt herself begin to panic. There was a sense of urgency about these things. There had to be, or she would never see the boy again, and the opportunity would be lost. He would not be purchasing any women’s cosmetics, and would walk past her department, on the way to another.

Perhaps she could help him to locate it. That was it. She would offer.

Dianne stepped into his path and smiled. She had been used to turning on a smile for the purpose of good customer service. In fact, one customer had returned and given her the following poem in response to it.

SMILE FOR HIRE

(1)       Why do you allow your smile to be used, to sell more soft drinks and French fries?

            Employers position you at the front counter, playing to customers' eyes.

            Your moods are a gift, to express when you choose, not to withhold and suppress,

            While faking a view that your heart doesn't share, when modelling somebody's dress.

(2)       You played in the fields, in the days of your youth, without manufacturing moods.

            Why sacrifice all of that innocence now, merely to offer fast foods

            To the consumers, who empty their wallets down into the shop owner's till,

            Defying the truth of emotions inside your soul, while projecting goodwill.

(3)       The sale of goods and services rendered doesn't include your own features.

            Love is not a commercial commodity. That's what the word of God teaches.

            It's yours to decide, when to give or respond with feelings that come from inside.

            It's yours to be offered, in various stages, from first date to girlfriend to bride.

(4)       A woman petitioned the Lord with a question, asking "How long have I got?"

            "You'll live forty years" the Creator replied. The lady was pleased with her lot.

            She went to the surgeons to have a facelift, disguising the years she'd acquired,

            And bought a new car, to drive through the town, pursuing the men she desired.

(5)       A truck driver suddenly slammed on his brakes, which sadly suffered from rust.

            He sent her car rolling, and when she'd passed on, she questioned the God she did

                                                                                                                                    trust:

            "My Father in Heaven, you said I had decades. So why did you leave me to die?"

            "I'm sorry," said God, "I did not recognise your face, when that large truck went by."

The man’s Christian message had not been wasted on her, but she couldn’t see herself progressing in her career by sighing at customers … or frowning.

This had to be different though. This had to be a smile from the heart which would use a brief opportunity to convey all her hopes and feelings in little more than an instant.

England, present day…

This was far more than the average boy’s wildest dream. She had not only written about but actually reciprocated the fantasy that her story had aroused in him. The promises of her letter would do everything short of actually enabling them both to go through with their fantasy.

Tarquin decided to read the new pages of the story that Leanne had written:

Dillon had returned home as usual by the weekend, and Mrs Waye was able to go about her regular Saturday evening business. Being a widow with two daughters, she was the president of an organisation called Single Mothers United Group (SMUG). Almost every Saturday evening, she would host parties for the group in her large garden. This was in fact the very garden where the second fork of Dillon’s Dew Forest tunnel emerged.

On the next Saturday evening, once the sun had set and the latest SMUG party was under Waye … err… under way, a prep school boy named Tristram (from the orphanage near the Dew Forest) snuck out for an evening walk, and found the tunnels too. He emerged in Mrs Waye’s garden, to see that a party of giant women was in full swing.

As he walked through the flower bed, he saw a beautiful woman reach down into the garden in front of him and pick up a young man. Her hand just kept on lifting him up, until she suddenly slipped him into her opening mouth!

“Hey!” called the young man.

Tristram watched as the giantess closed her mouth and then gulped. Before his very eyes, she had swallowed the young man completely. The giantess licked her lips and then looked around the garden.

He realised that she might well have been looking for another boy to eat. He might have turned and run, but he was still mesmerized by both her beauty and the dining feat that he had just seen her perform.

Mrs Waye turned and walked back to a party table and made conversation with her guests, completely unconcerned with the fact that she had just eaten someone. A number of other single mothers (giant women) were in attendance at the SMUG party that evening: Mrs Hornsby, Mrs Tyrrell, Mrs Croker, Mrs Unswales, and Mrs Sue Lane.

The young adult man, who had just been eaten, was in fact a member of a club called the British Bachelor Boys. He made himself as comfortable as he could in Mrs Waye’s giant stomach and felt the movement as she walked around enjoying her own party.

The British Bachelor Boys had discovered the parties a few weeks earlier, and decided to come back and evaluate their chances of romancing the beautiful giant women. Most of them had spread out in the garden and prepared to approach the ladies who had caught their eyes, and weren’t even aware that one of their club was now in the hostess’s tummy.

In one part of the garden, a young adult named Dick managed to get the attention of a beautifully heavily built woman in her thirties with medium length light brown hair and very full shapely lips.

“Hello, I’m Dick,” said the man.

“You’re rather tiny, aren’t you?” she said, “I’m Mrs Hornsby.”

“Would you like to go out with me?” asked Dick.

“I suppose I could take you home, hide a small photograph of me in my lounge room and then leave the room while you hide yourself. I’ll come back and search for you. If you find the photo before I find you, I’ll be your girlfriend for as long as you want me. If I find you first, I’ll eat you.”

“That’s a fair bit risky for me,” said Dick.

“Well I can always find a man my own age and size,” said Mrs Hornsby.

If her mouth had not been so beautiful, he would never have considered taking the chance of being eaten by it. However, he was not going to make any decision other than accepting her offer. Mrs Hornsby was so keen to eat him, that she left the party with him early, and took him home and set up their game. He concealed himself behind a curtain and then began navigating a potential route in his mind’s eye, which would lead him around to the various parts of the room, where she might have hidden the photograph.

He watched her come into the room, and waited to see which direction she would go in to start her search for him. She turned to the right, and got down on all fours, crawled over to the nearest cupboard and peeked under it. Dick ran to the couch on the left, and simply ran under it in search of the photograph.

Dick made his way around the room in the same clockwise direction that she had done. However, when he reached the place that she had started her own search, she was most of the way around. She had covered more ground in the same time that he had taken to cover less, because of her giant size. He could only run for the cupboard that she had checked first.

Before he could reach it, she turned her head and saw him. It was the most amazing sight that he had ever seen, as the beautiful giant woman began crawling triumphantly towards him. She soon had him cornered and caught him in her giant hand.

In the meantime, back at the party, another Bachelor Boy called Paul had approached a giantess who introduced herself as Mrs Unswales. He invited her on a date.

“I think you’d be more suited to my daughter,” said Mrs Unswales, “And if it doesn’t work out, you’d be lovely for dinner.”

Paul went back to her place and met her daughter that night, who seemed happy to date him. He found himself wondering what Mrs Unswales had meant by “lovely for dinner.”

Back at the party, another bachelor boy asked Mrs Croker out.

“I’ve already been married,” she said, and suddenly put the boy into her mouth.

Before he could say anything else, she swallowed him.

“I guess that was a rejection, and a counter offer,” he thought in her stomach.

Sue Lane accepted the invitation from a boy named Lawrence and began dating him.

Mrs Tyrrell looked at her own young and tiny admirer.

“No. You’re too young. I’d much rather have you for supper tomorrow night,” she said, “You’re just the right size to be swallowed whole.”

She dropped him gently into her handbag and continued enjoying the party, leaving right at the end of the night.

When Mrs Tyrrell got home, the young man debated the issue with her, but she insisted on eating him.

A week passed, and another member of the British Bachelor Boys approached Mrs Hornsby. She made him the same challenge, which he accepted. He managed to find the photograph and became her boyfriend.

Mrs Sue Lane met another boy named Reginald. He asked her on a date.

“Well I’ve already started dating another boy from your little group,” she said, “But you do look very nice. Perhaps you’d consider inviting me to eat you instead.”

“Eating me? … I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, “But your mouth looks lovely.”

“I’ll meet you back here just before the party ends, and you can give me your answer then,” said Mrs Lane.

Reginald spent the evening watching the adorable Mrs Lane walking around the garden, and his mind was made up.

“So what have you decided?” she asked sweetly.

“I’d be honoured if you ate me,” said Reginald.

“Thank you, young man,” said Mrs Lane.

She took him home and hid him for the night. The next evening she waited until her daughter had gone to bed, and then licked Reginald slowly and slid him into her mouth and swallowed him.

In the meantime, Paul couldn’t help thinking that it would be more fun to be eaten by Mrs Unswales, than to continue dating her daughter. He waited for a chance to talk to her, while her daughter was out of the house.

“I was wondering what you meant, when you said I’d be lovely for dinner.”

“I meant that you’d be very nice to eat,” said Mrs Unswales.

“Could you describe what that would be like for me?” he asked.

“Being eaten?” asked Mrs Unswales.

“Yes,” he said, “Could you tell me how you would have done it?”

“I’d have warmed you up a little, but not too much, in my oven, and then enjoyed the taste of you in my mouth for a while, and then gobbled you down gently,” she said.

Paul took the next available opportunity to confide in her daughter, who didn’t seem to be that taken by him anyway. The girl was more fascinated by his vore crush on her mother, and agreed to break off their relationship, so that her mother would proceed with her alternate plan.

“It seems my daughter does not want to continue seeing you,” said Mrs Unswales the next time they were alone together.

“It does look that way,” said Paul.

“Well I might make a start on having you for dinner,” she said, and placed him gently into the oven.

She turned the oven on low, so as not to burn him, and waited until he had heated up a little, and then gently ate the boy. It was the ride of his life.

Tarquin enjoyed the new plot device to no end. The SMUG parties and the British Bachelor Boys would provide a potentially endless series of multiple plot lines, allowing them to tell stories of both romances with giantesses and young men being eaten by them. He wondered what would happen to Tristram, the boy around his own age in the story, who had so far only witnessed a gobbling, but not revealed himself to the giantesses. The plot structure would now allow each of them to create and develop separate subplots without contradicting the other writer’s storylines.